


grown out of grief

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Dies, will be nsfw in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: when tony stark dies, peter feels lost. strange helps him find his footing, and in the process they fall in love.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Stephen Strange
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	grown out of grief

**Author's Note:**

> peter has been aged up in this fic, he is around 18 or 19 and living in his own shitty little apartment.
> 
> this fic is based off of [this post](https://praisepeter.tumblr.com/post/622664234485022720/you-know-that-scene-in-stranger-things-s2-when) from my tumblr

Peter doesn’t know what to do, so he just stands there in shock. His hands are shaking and his tears are smearing the dirt and blood across his cheeks, and he just… he just stands there and watches Tony Stark die.

He glances around, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do. He looks to Rhodey for some sort of guidance, but he won’t meet his eyes. And so he just stands there and watches Pepper hold Tony’s lifeless form.

Everyone starts to make their way towards them, gathering around his body. Peter sees Steve and his broken expression forces him to immediately look away. That’s when he sees _him_.

Doctor Strange is standing a few feet away, sporting his usual solemn expression. Peter sees him, and he’s suddenly hit with a memory from that day five years ago.

_“I went forward in time to view alternate futures to see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”_

_“How many did you see?”_

_“14,000,605.”_

_“How many did we win?”_

_“One.”_

And something in Peter snaps. He turns slowly towards Strange as the realization starts to dawn on him. Peter’s voice is quiet as it all starts to come together in his mind, “You knew…”

Strange doesn’t react. He keeps that same, infuriating expression, and Peter feels his anger start to grow. It blooms up inside of him until he can’t contain it anymore. Then he’s stomping over to him, voice rising in volume with each step as the anger takes over his body, “You knew! You _knew_ and you did nothing! This is your fault! How could you let this happen!?”

Strange is looking at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowed, but Peter plows on. He’s now less than a foot away from Strange. So he marches on, closing the gap between them. Before he can stop himself, his body lashes out without his permission, hitting Strange in the chest once, twice. His voice breaks as sobs shake through him, “We trusted you and you… Fuck you! You knew! You saw it happen! You knew… You-”

“Kid, hey, Peter-” Strange tries to interject, tries to calm him, but it only makes it worse. He barely gets two words out before Peter strikes again. He hits him hard and Strange nearly winces, but instead he speaks again, this time his voice stern, “Hey, hey. Peter, stop. Stop!”

And Peter just crumbles. Exhaustion and heartache take over, and he crumples into Strange’s arms. For a moment, Strange stands there dumbfounded. A few years ago, he probably would’ve pushed Peter away, but _a lot_ has changed since then. So Strange does the only thing he can think to do, he hugs him. And Peter lets go. He sobs into his chest, fists curling in the fabric of his shirt.

Strange holds him as he sobs. He doesn’t say anything because he knows anything he said right now would just jump start the boy’s anger, and that’s the last thing he needs. And so he just holds him. Holds him like that until his sobs soften and the tension seeps from his body.

Peter steps back, and Strange is finally able to get a good look at him. And, well, he looks a mess. His eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are smeared with dirt and grime. The sight is heartbreaking. Strange feels a surge of something that feels like an awful lot like the need to protect.

Peter runs a shaky hand through his hair, looking back and forth between the ground and Stephen’s chest, refusing to meet his eyes. His voice is weak and scared and full of shame when he says, “‘M sorry, I don’t…”

Strange puts a hand on his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Peter must not have been expecting that because he looks up at him in shock, gaze finally meeting his. Strange gives a very slight, almost nonexistent smile that he hopes is reassuring and says, “It’s okay, kid.”

\---

After that day, Strange thinks about Peter a lot. He wants nothing more than to reach out and check in on him, but he doesn’t actually get a chance to do so until the day of the funeral. Strange stands beside him during the service with that same comforting hand on his shoulder, giving light strokes whenever he hears Peter’s breath hitch in an attempt to hold back his sobs. When the service comes to a close and Peter can’t seem to take it anymore, Strange holds him close. When it’s an acceptable time to leave and Peter is too drained to continue. Strange invites him to the townhouse.

Peter agrees immediately, wanting nothing more than to get away. Plus, Strange promised him ice cream.

That evening they sit on Strange’s couch eating ice cream and watching _Alien_. It all starts off well and good, but halfway through the movie, Peter starts to cry again. Strange quickly moves to comfort him, but his cloak beats him to it, falling over Peter’s shoulders and wrapping tightly around him. Peter gasps a faint chuckle, and Strange feels his heart do something it definitely shouldn’t be doing. (He definitely has a brief moment of panic because if even his relic is consoling Peter then… then he’s definitely in too deep. But the panic doesn’t last long because then Peter is drawing his attention back to the here and now, giggling sweetly as the cloak wipes his tears).

Peter plays with the lining of the cloak, fingers stroking over the soft fabric. He smiles, “Your cape likes me.”

“Sure seems like it,” Strange says, not even bothering to correct him on the terminology.

And so Peter spends the rest of the evening with the cape draped over his shoulders.  
When the night is drawing to a close and it’s time for Peter to head home, the two of them have to wrangle the cloak away, struggling to coerce it off him. All the while, Peter is laughing a true genuine laugh, a laugh that has something akin to pride blooming in Strange’s chest

“Well, um, thank you. For the ice cream and um. Everything else,” Peter says when he’s finally free of the relic, a little awkward, but endearingly so.

“I enjoy your company,” Strange says with a shrug, unable to come up with anything more to say.

Strange thinks he sees Peter blush, but he blames it on the lighting in his foyer and the exertion of wrestling a magical cape.

“Me too,” Peter says, voice soft, then, “Okay, well, I should go. Bye, um, Doctor Strange?”

Strange laughs, “Just call me Stephen.”

Peter nods, “Okay, Stephen.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](https://praisepeter.tumblr.com)


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